Fulltime Dad
by St. Harridan
Summary: It's a wonder how Yachiru, the loud and obnoxious little brat, is still alive. But Kenpachi can't help but admit that everything she does, everything that she is, accounts for that "dumbass" decision he had made years ago. Birthday fic for 'Chiru!


**A/N: **Written for 5 Prompts on LJ.

**Table: **32

**Prompt: **4 - Low profile jobs

Happy birthday to "Kenpachi's pink tumour"! :D

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Full-time Dad

The large man watched as his little pink terror launched herself at Ikkaku and sank her teeth into his bald head for reasons much pertaining to his throwing insults her way. He would have given Ikkaku a piece of his mind for so much as _glaring _at the child, but that would ruin all the fun.

He leaned back in his chair, letting a sigh hiss slowly and steadily through his teeth. Ikkaku's shouts of pain rang out from the training grounds below, so loudly that Kenpachi could hear each and every word he was saying. His demands, which included one too many salty phrases, carried on in a long, endless stream that was sure to twist the old fart's wrinkled face into a disagreeing frown.

Kenpachi didn't really mind if Yachiru mixed within an atmosphere thick with curses and lusty male subordinates; he was certain that she would never follow in their footsteps no matter how long she was to be smothered with them. Yumichika, being the vain little peacock that he was, had no inclination towards the division's salty tongues, and Kenpachi could trust him to take care of Yachiru if she were to inherit any of the members' fondness for profanity.

With Yumichika trying to cleanse Yachiru's mouth, Kenpachi would, no doubt, head over to whoever taught her the words and beat the shit out of him without a moment's notice.

It was true that he himself possessed a terrible mouth, but he had grown up with it. Living in the filthy streets of the Eightieth District was no playground, and that was why he didn't want Yachiru to pick up any of those nasty phrases. He didn't want to be reminded of that cold, dismal world where children were considered adults at the age of seven, swinging swords about and looking for fights.

No, Kenpachi would make sure that she didn't follow in their footsteps. Whether or not they were his inferiors, members of his very own division, he would never let Yachiru inherit anything from them.

Maybe it was just him being...insecure, or just downright unreasonable, but the only explanation for his decision was that he – as much as he was inclined to deny it – saw himself as a role model for the girl.

A harsh cry from the courtyard shattered Kenpachi's thoughts, and he, growling with irritation at the sudden intrusion, got up from his chair and looked out the window. He was right for assuming that Yachiru had changed her target, for Ikkaku was now the one trying to disentangle her fingers out of Yumichika's hair.

Really, the brat couldn't keep her hands to herself.

"Hey, runt!" Kenpachi called, effectively bringing about a sudden stop in activity, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder when Yachiru looked up to meet his single eye. "Time for a bath, it's gettin' late."

Yachiru shifted herself on Yumichika's shoulders to get a better grasp of his silky hair, squeezing out a whine from the poor man.

"But I don't wanna!" She stuck out her bottom lip, and the both of them, man and child, stared at each other for what seemed like eternity before Kenpachi finally gave up.

"All right then, I'll have 'em _pink _bubbles all to m-" No sooner had he withdrew from the window did he hear a sharp squeal, followed by Yumichika's own cry. Not more than three seconds later, the door flew open and Kenpachi was smothered as Yachiru clung to his face.

"You _meanie_! Those pink bubbles are _mine_! Mine, mine, _mine_!"

With a snarl, Kenpachi tore Yachiru off him and held her by the scruff of her collar. Absently, he wondered just _where _the hell she learned the word "meanie." It was as bad as a curse word itself... Maybe one of those pansies taught her. He made a mental note to bitch-slap the man back to where he came from before the day ended.

Trying to be a goddamned role model to the kid was hard work, and Kenpachi had realized it a long time ago. But still, there was this one word that carried a much heavier responsibility, with more work and a higher risk of being driven insane.

"Papa", was it? Ukitake had told him once, but he never really paid attention to it. Still, he knew that it wasn't a job that could be kept low-profile and taken easily, for the moment a man picks up the burden of raising an ugly baby, he is to stick to that child for the rest of his life. Words of giving up should never be in his dictionary, or he'd be a damned lousy dad.

And Kenpachi wasn't lousy, no. If he was, then the runt wouldn't be here, winding her way up his arm and settling in the back of his collar to play with his hair.

"Ken-_chan_, I want my _bubbles_," she whined, poking a bell so that it jingled like a light breeze had teased it.

Kenpachi sighed, dreary, as the decision he had made all those years ago returned to strike him in the face. It had started out like a wild maelstrom, clutching him in its deceitful embrace and dragging him under. The early days had been hell, but as the years passed, Yachiru proved to be quite the..._endearing _child. Learning to put up with her antics and obsessions with confectionary had all been worth it, because his patience had bought him endless days of waking up to find the child sleeping in his bed, curled up beside him, wrapped in his large captain's haori.

Hearing another impatient jingle, he reached back and, with a feral grin, ruffled Yachiru's pink strands. "Let's go get some bubbles then, eh?"

The squeal that pierced his ear right then didn't plant a seed of irritation inside him, but instead it made him feel all the more fulfilled. If he couldn't give his runt the bath and bubbles that she wanted, then he'd be one of the worse damned dads out there – and Zaraki Kenpachi wouldn't even settle for second best.


End file.
